


Empty Hearts

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Despair, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Goodbyes, Grief, Last Time, Leaving, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Emre is leaving Liverpool to play for another club in the future, and Loris spends one last night with him.





	Empty Hearts

“You're leaving.” Loris' words hang in the air between them, ringing unnaturally loud in the room and yet not loud enough to fill the silence and emptiness between them.

Loris watches Emre standing at the window and looking outside, his head turned away from the blond, probably to hide his face. Loris needs the wall next to the door for support, leaning against it with one heel braced against it and his fingers entangled behind his back, trapped between the white wall and his body.

They are in the same room and the distance between them is small enough to bridge it with four or five steps – two or three meters perhaps – but it feels like an ocean to Loris, a huge endless ocean he will never be able to cross to get to Emre.

His heart feels as empty as the room is – Emre has never been the kind of guy needing much stuff or trinkets in his flat. It actually looks even emptier than Loris remembers Emre's living room to look like, and his throat tightens when he realizes that Emre has already started packing his things.

Of course he has. Why would he want to stay for longer than he has to?

 _'Because you are still here, because he said that he loves you!'_ the small voice whispers in his head, the voice Loris can't stop, no matter how hard he tries.

Loris stares at the dark shock of hair before the window, wishing he would find the right words that will make Emre stay. He knows that he's unfair, he has known about Emre's problems with Klopp and the club, about his frustration and his longing for a new start for a long time.

 _'But this was before_ that _night. It was before your world turned upside down!'_ the voice in his head insists, _'if he really loved you, he would stay! They want him to stay – you want him to stay! You need him more than ever and he said that he would always be there for you!'_

Loris closes his eyes and balls his fists behind his back. Emre is not responsible for Loris' misery, it's not fair to expect him to give up his dreams for Loris' sake and stay where's so clearly unhappy.

“We've already talked about this.” Emre sounds mostly tired, but there is a thin underlayer of despair audible in his shallow voice as well.

Yes, they have. But it doesn't make it any better. Before _that_ night, Loris was able to suppress his feelings for Emre's sake, but he's too exhausted and desperate himself to do that now – after _that_ night.

It's strange he thinks how his life has become divided into two halves: in his old – good – life before _'that'_ night, and his new – bad – life after it. Loris can't help but think that Emre is actually glad that he can leave him together with the city that has been his home over the past years, glad that his name won't be mentioned together with Loris' name in the same sentence in the future again when it comes to football. The blond knows that his moods has been hard to bear lately, and Emre has shown understanding and patience, but it was probably easy for him to do that knowing that he would be far away enough soon enough, increasing the gap between them until Emre would be able to ignore Loris' desperate cries coming from the other side.

The cries of his empty heart Loris so carefully keeps inside – but Emre should still be able to hear them if he really loved him, shouldn't he?

The younger one finally turns his head to look at him. His face is partly hidden in the beginning shadows of the fading day that have started to darken the room, but Loris can see his features as clearly as if the sunlight would still be shining onto Emre's face. He will never forget Emre's dark beauty, Loris is sure that he will still remember it for the rest of his life. There is no ocean big enough that could make him forget anything about Emre and his own deep and passionate love for him.

“I'm not leaving you, Lo. You know that, don't you?” The despair in the other man's quiet voice is tangible now, Loris could grab it with his hands if he reached out for it. But he keeps his fists behind his back, too hurt to reach out for the man he loves with every fiber of his aching and tired body.

Emre sighs when Loris doesn't respond, crossing the room and stopping a few centimeters before the blond. Loris can feel the heat radiating from the younger one's body, but it fails to warm his own numb limbs. Loris wonders briefly if he will ever feel warm again, but the thought vanishes when Emre touches his lips with his own.

Their bodies don't touch though, there are still a few inches left between them, but Emre keeps his head in place with one hand when Loris tries to turn his head to the side. His frustrated snarl vibrates in Loris' mouth, and his tongue is demanding when it pushes into the soft cavern, making it impossible for Loris to pull away.

His love for Emre crushes him like a huge wave when the other man's scent fills his nose and his senses, and Loris kisses him back with the same despair and longing, opening his mouth for him to let the dark-haired claim what is his anyway.

Loris will always be his, nothing will ever change that, no fight, no distance, no deep and endless ocean, nothing.

They're still not touching elsewhere when Emre deepens their angry kiss, exploring the blond's mouth like he did when they kissed for the very first time – which seems to have been a lifetime ago.

Their tongues battle for dominance, but Loris knows that Emre will win this contest – it's always him winning when they kiss. He stops fighting at last, pulling his hands out from where they have been trapped behind his back to grab Emre's hips and pull him closer. He doesn't care that he's the first one again admitting how much he longs for Emre's touch, not when Emre cups his face with one hand and pushes him hard against the wall with the other one, holding his hips in place with his fingers curled into Loris' left butt cheek.

Loris can feel Emre's anger and frustration in his kiss and the way the younger man is keeping him trapped and immobile, he can feel them as if they were his own emotions. Emre's kiss is fierce and deep, and he grinds their bodies together with the same urgency he kisses him with – deep, wet and messy with teeth and tongue.

The blond asks himself whether Emre's palpable desire comes from his love for him or if the anger and hurt the younger man has bottled up inside himself for days is just finally breaking free, needing a physical valve. The dark-haired's large bulge is pressing against his own erection, and a low whimper escapes Loris' throat when Emre draws back from his bruised lips to give them some space to breathe. His tongue is numb and tingling where he has cut it on Emre's teeth, and he can taste blood when he licks over his bottom lip.

They stare at each other for a moment, breathing hard. Loris realizes that Emre is still waiting for his answer. “It feels like you're going to leave me,” he whispers, wondering why his eyes are still dry. He has cried so many tears within the last weeks, and yet he feels new wetness sting behind his halfway closed lids.

“I'm not. I don't want to 'leave' anybody or anything,” Emre tries to explain, “it's just that I want to feel right again when I play. I haven't felt right in ages, Lo. This is not about you – it's about me!”

“But you need to leave me to feel right again.” Loris accuses him. He loves the younger man, he loves him more than anything, and he wants to see him happy, but it hurts so damn much.

“I'm. Not. Leaving. _You_!” Emre says, his jaw tight and his eyes sparkling with anger. He claims Loris' lips in another fierce kiss, apparently tired of talking, thinking it wiser to let his body do the talking for him.

Actions speak louder than words people say, and Emre's passionate onslaught is proof enough that his desire for Loris is as strong as ever, making Loris' mind spin with raw need that comes from the deepest parts of his aching soul. They kiss until they run out of air, Loris' vision blurring behind his closes eyelids with the dizziness that comes from his need to breathe. Loris doesn't care about breathing, he only cares about Emre's tongue in his mouth and the heat radiating from his fingers and his body pressing against his own, about the younger man's desire for him that pokes against his hipbone.

Emre's kiss makes him forget the emptiness in his heart for a few merciful minutes, and a desperate whimper escapes him when the dark-haired draws back from his mouth reluctantly, running his thumb through Loris' ruffled hair before resting it on his cheekbone to stroke Loris' cheek with surprising tenderness. Loris can feel his eyes on his face, his skin burning from their kiss but the flesh and the bones underneath numb with the freezing coldness that simply refuses to go away since _that_ night.

The blond isn't sure that he can stand Emre's gaze, but his eyes open of their own will, staring into the dark orbs Emre's pupils have become. They look at each other without speaking for a long time, the dark-haired stroking his cheek in a feather-light caress.

“Don't move,” Emre finally says, pulling away from him but keeping their gazes locked. Loris watches him leave the room, not moving, hardly breathing. His starved lungs scream for air, but Loris fears that Emre won't come back if he moves, and so he keeps his breaths shallow and quiet, craving for the younger one to come back to him and tell him that he won't leave him so badly that he wants to cry.

He's still leaning against the wall in the same posture as before, but his hands are hanging uselessly at his sides now, his fingers flexing instinctively as if they were still holding Emre's hips. Loris can't tell how much time passes as he waits, probably only a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity, the years they've played together for Liverpool flying by before his mind's eye in bright and colorful pictures.

He can't stand losing Emre, the mere thought of the man he loves so much leaving the club, the city – leaving him – making him want to scream, but Loris knows that he has no right to ask the younger one to stay. Emre is right, it's his life, and he hasn't been happy in Liverpool any longer for a long time. Loris knows that, and Emre's happiness means more to him than his own.

Emre comes back without making any sound, and Loris flinches when he feels warm lips on his own cold ones again, Emre is quiet when he kisses him, his passion and desire for Loris even stronger than before. His kisses are deep and ardent and hungry, and Emre's tongue is everywhere inside Loris' mouth, licking and stroking and caressing each and every spot he already knows by heart after the time they've been together.

Loris wants drown in Emre's kisses, he wants to forget that there will be a tomorrow, a time when Emre won't hold him in his arms and kiss him like he's kissing him now, pressing him against the hard wall and rubbing his erection against Loris' groin demandingly. Their hands have found their way downwards to fumble with their clothes, pushing them out of the way, and Loris gratefully loses himself in the heat of the moment, Emre's hot lips on his own making him forget anything else.

The younger man suddenly drawing back from his mouth and starting to speak startles him, and Loris blinks in confusion, chasing after Emre's red and swollen lips because he isn't ready for what Emre might want to say to him. He thinks that he will never be prepared for that, but Emre is determined to tell him what needs to be said nonetheless.

“I'm not leaving you, Lo! I'd really thought that you know how much I love you! I will always love you, Lo, please...” Emre sounds so desperate to get through to Loris and make him see the truth, and Loris does know that Emre loves him. But his heart feels so empty and hurts so much, and somehow, Emre's confession makes it all the more painful. The dark-haired is not the kind of guy talking much about his feelings, and he's saying that he loves Loris only rare times. That he's doing it now of all times just serves to remind Loris of the fact that their time playing for the same club is over, and he lets out a snarl and pulls the shorter man close to silence him with a kiss.

“Don't talk, it won't change anything. Just fuck me, Em, give me something to remember when you're gone!” he demands, because there is nothing left to say at all. Emre has made his decision, and all Loris can do is accept it and try to go with his own fucked-up life.

Emre stares at him, his jaw working, and the blond can see the hurt in his beautiful dark eyes. Of course Emre feels hurt too, but it doesn't really console the blond. He needs Emre, he needs him for real in the mess his shitty life has become, not just as a memory of former happy times, not just as a flat two-dimensional picture and some messages on his phone or on Skype.

Emre stares and presses his lips to a thin line, but he nods and turns Loris around to press him against the wall with his front. The wall is hard and unyielding against Loris' stubbly cheek, but Loris welcomes the slight ache that distracts him from the pain in his heart, and he spreads his legs when Emre coats his fingers with the lube he's picked up from the bedroom when he left Loris for a moment, knowing what Loris wants from him. His pants are pooling around his knees, restraining him, but there is enough room left for the younger man to work him open with single-minded determination. Loris closes his eyes and concentrates on the burning that comes with the stretching, his fingers clawing at the wallpaper and his raged breathing leaving damp spots on it.

Emre buries his face on his neck while he prepares him with an urgency that fuels Loris' desire until the blond's head is swimming with raw need. “'m sorry, babe, please, try to understand...”  
The dark-haired's voice is choked with emotions, and Loris knows that he is honest and really means what he says, but that him feeling sorry for leaving Loris behind won't change his mind at all.

“Love you, really love you, please, Lo...” Emre whispers against his throat, and Loris swallows and relaxes when the younger one wraps his left arm around his waist. “Love you too, Em, love you so damn much, always...”

He turns his head and Emre searches for his lips again when he finally pushes into him with his hard cock, the thin layer of the condom the only barrier left between them. Loris' fingers flex against the wall, his short nails digging into the white paper when Emre starts to move, his tongue thrusting into Loris' mouth in the same rhythm as he pushes into him with his dick. Loris whimpers into his mouth when his own painfully hard length brushes over the rough wallpaper, the sensation adding to the overwhelming feelings coursing through him. He feels bare and naked and vulnerable, numb and cold because Emre will leave him and burning with desire at the same time. Emre's mouth is so hot upon his own, just as if he wanted to literally eat him, and he's so hot and hard inside Loris, thrusting right into the deepest parts of Loris' soul.

Loris' head is spinning, his heart racing, and a violent shiver is wrecking him when Emre searches for his neglected cock, his arm wrapped tightly around the blond's waist. The younger man knows so well how to drive him crazy with lust, how to touch and stroke him until Loris is trembling with need, his toes curling with the desire coursing through his veins. Emre moves his hand up and down on Loris' throbbing length with something akin to grim determination, and he changes the angles of his thrust until Loris shudders in his arms and cries into his mouth. The dark-haired growls and speeds up, pushing into him all over again and again in a punishing rhythm, just like Loris needs it as hurt and cold as he feels right now.

“I don't want to leave you, Lo, I really don't! You'll be fine... we'll be fine, I promise you. I'm not going to leave you, I swear...” Emre repeats these words like a mantra, whispering against Loris' bruised lips and his damp cheek, and Loris so wants to believe him, he so wants to believe that Emre is telling the truth. That they will somehow make it, that they won't drift apart when Emre is playing for another club and in another city, so far away from Liverpool.

They're both panting, their bodies hot and wet with the sweat of arousal, and Loris' nails scratch over the wallpaper, groaning and gasping. He can feel his balls tightening with his approaching orgasm, and Emre's growing harder and bigger inside him with every powerful thrust. They are totally in sync now, their harsh breathing, their motions and their thoughts, and Loris pulls Emre's arm tightly around his chest as he pushes back against the man he loves, craving to feel him deeper and deeper inside his empty core. He needs Emre to take him, to claim him and fill him, to mark him as his for all of the time.

Loris feels like flying, and Emre's tender and passionate lips swallow his sharp cry of ecstasy when the blond loses himself in their love and desire, spurting hot and wet against the wall and over Emre's warm hand. His body explodes with the painfully intense pleasure that captures him, and his walls clench around Emre's rock-hard dick thrusting hard and mercilessly into him, milking the younger man's ecstasy from him. Emre inhales sharply when he follows Loris over the edge, filling the rubber with his release. Loris can feel the heavy pulsing of Emre's shooting cock through the latex, and Emre's pleasure boosts his own and prolongs his own height until his knees buckle and he can hardly keep himself upright any longer.

Loris can't tell how long they're standing there in the almost empty living room, leaning panting against the wall beside the door. The shadows have become longer, the last shreds of the daylight faded to the gloom of the early night. He keeps his eyes closed to hide his tears when he feels Emre's warm lips travel over his face, not warm enough to chase the freezing cold in his bones away, but they distract him at least a little bit from the emptiness that comes back when Emre's softening cock slips out of his throbbing hole.

“I love you,” Emre says, and Loris opens his eyes at last and smiles softly at him. “I know that, Emre, I know.”

 

***

 

Later that night they make love in Emre's bed.

It's not the desperate and urgent fucking it has been when Emre has taken him against the white wall of his empty living room, it's slow and tender and gentle, face to face, with Emre's strong hands stroking his face the entire time. The younger man never averts his eyes, never closes them while he moves inside Loris, looking at the blond as if he wanted to burn the sight of Loris lying beneath him into his memory forever.

They try to draw it out and make this last forever, pausing in between in the weak attempt to make time stand still for them, their kisses soft and careful. Emre keeps his eyes open even while they kiss, watching Loris, his fingertips trailing over the lines of Loris' face with rapt devotion and love.

“We will find a way, Lo, we will find a way to make this work,” the dark-haired says, and Loris so wants to believe him, he so wants to believe that they will be alright and still be together next year. He really wished that he could believe Emre's words, but he can hear the doubts in the younger man's dark voice, the doubts Emre tries to suppress but which he can't hide from the man who knows him inside out – sometimes even better than Emre knows himself.

“Yes, we will,” Loris replies when he sees the silent plea in Emre's eyes, the plea to believe in them, the wordless plea not to be angry with him and to understand why Emre thinks that he has to go. He knows that Emre can hear the doubts in his own voice as well, but the dark-haired just bends down and kisses him gratefully nonetheless. They start to move again, rolling their hips against each other until they come together, looking each other deep in the eyes when the waves of ecstasy wash over them, making them forget the world outside for a few precious moments.

“I love you,” Emre repeats, and Loris wants to cry, because he can't remember any single time Emre has said that he loves him as often as he's said those famous three little words to him tonight, and listening to Emre confessing his love to him somehow only increases the empty feeling in his heart.

“I love you too,” Loris whispers into the darkness, and he really wants to believe that their love will be enough to keep them together, even though there will be an ocean between them. An endless ocean not in the real sense of the meaning, but in the literal one.

It's always easier for the one who moves on than it is for the one who's left behind, and Emre will have a new city, a new club and new teammates that will keep him busy and distracted – while Loris will only have his despair and his longing for his good old life he has lost in that horrible night.

“I love you,” Loris says again when he sneaks out of Emre's arms and his bed, dressing silently not to wake the sleeping man up. Emre lies on his front with his nose buried in the pillow where Loris' head has been only a few minutes ago, murmuring something unintelligible in his deep slumber of exhaustion.

He crosses the room on his toes but stops in the doorway for a moment to look back at Emre's sleeping figure with a tender smile. “I will always love you, Emre Can. Nothing will ever change my love for you.” His words hang in the air in a soft whisper, not loud enough to wake Emre up, and after one more minute, Loris turns around and walks out of the room, through the empty corridor, and out of Emre's empty flat into the quiet night.

The streets are empty as well as he walks to his own flat, empty like his heart. But this time, Loris welcomes the emptiness surrounding him, welcomes the numbness that covers everything.

Tomorrow will be a new day, and Loris realizes that this night has divided his life again, divided it into two halves like the night a few weeks ago did, only in a different way.

This night divides his life into a life with Emre that he's had until he walked out of his door and a life without Emre - and all Loris can do is to find a way to live with the emptiness in his heart, to go on and live his life without Emre being a part of it.

Tonight, his life with Emre has come to an end.

Tomorrow, his life without Emre will begin.


End file.
